The muses raised to high Olympus' throne;
For oft, alas! their venal strains adorn
The prince, whom blushing virtue holds in scorn : Still Rome and Greece record his endless fame, And hence yon mountain yet retains his name.
But see! in confluence borne before the blast, Clouds roll'd on clouds the dusky noon o'ercast The blackening ocean curls, the winds arise, And the dark scud in swift succession flies. While the swoln canvass bends the masts on high, Low in the wave the leeward cannon lie. The master calls, to give the ship relief, The top-sails lower, and form a single reef! Each lofty yard with slacken'd cordage reels; Rattle the creaking blocks and ringing wheels. Down the tall masts the top-sails sink amain, Are mann'd and reef'd, then hoisted up again. More distant grew receding Candia's shore, And southward of the west Cape Spado bore.
Four hours the sun his high meridian throne Had left, and o'er Atlantic regions shone; Still blacker clouds, that all the skies invade, Draw o'er his sullied orb a dismal shade: A lowering squall obscures the southern sky, Before whose sweeping breath the waters fly; Its weight the top-sails can no more sustain
Reef top-sails, reef! the master calls again.
The halyards and top-bow-lines soon are gone,
To clue-lines and reef-tackles next they run:
The shivering sails descend; the yards are square;
Then quick aloft the ready crew repair :
The weather-earings and the lee they past,
The reefs enroll'd, and every point made fast.
Their task above thus finish'd, they descend,
And vigilant the approaching squall attend :
It comes resistless! and with foaming sweep
Upturns the whitening surface of the deep :
In such a tempest, borne to deeds of death,
The wayward sisters scour the blasted heath.
The clouds, with ruin pregnant, now impend,
And storm, and cataracts, tumultuous blend.
Deep, on her side, the reeling vessel lies:
Brail up the mizen quick! the master cries,
Man the clue-garnets! let the main-sheet fly!
It rends in thousand shivering shreds on high!
The main-sail all in streaming ruins tore,
Loud fluttering, imitates the thunder's roar :
The ship still labours in the oppressive strain,
Low bending, as if ne'er to rise again.
Bear up the helm a-weather! Rodmond cries:
Swift at the word the helm a-weather flies;
She feels its guiding power,
and veers apace,
And now the fore-sail right athwart they brace:
With equal sheets restrain'd, the bellying sail
Spreads a broad concave to the sweeping gale.
While o'er the foam the ship impetuous flies,
The helm the attentive timoneer applies:
As in pursuit along the aërial way
With ardent the falcon marks his prey,
Each motion watches of the doubtful chase,
Obliquely wheeling through the fluid space;
So, govern'd by the steersman's glowing hands,
The regent helm her motion still commands.
But now the transient squall to leeward past,
Again she rallies to the sullen blast:
The helm to starboard moves; each shivering sail
Is sharply trimm'd to clasp the augmenting gale-
The mizen draws; she springs aloof once more,
While the fore stay-sail balances before.
The fore-sail braced obliquely to the wind,
They near the prow
the extended tack confined; Then on the leeward sheet the seamen bend, And haul the bow-line to the bowsprit-end : To top-sails next they haste; the bunt-lines gone! Through rattling blocks the clue-lines swiftly run; The extending sheets on either side are mann'd, Abroad they come! the fluttering sails expand; The yards again ascend each comrade mast,
The leeches taught, the halyards are made fast,
The bow-lines haul'd, and yards to starboard braced,
And straggling ropes in pendant order placed.
The main-sail, by the squall so lately rent,
In streaming pendants flying, is unbent:
With brails refix'd, another soon prepared,
Ascending, spreads along beneath the yard.
To each yard-arm the head-rope they extend,
And soon their earings and their robans bend.
That task perform'd, they first the braces slack,
Then to the chesstree drag the unwilling tack.
And, while the lee clue-garnet's lower'd away,
Taught aft the sheet they tally, and belay.
Now to the north, from Afric's burning shore,
A troop of porpoises their course explore;
In curling wreaths they gambol on the tide,
Now bound aloft, now down the billow glide :
Their tracks awhile the hoary waves retain,
That burn in sparkling trails along the main-
These fleetest coursers of the finny race,
When threatening clouds the etherial vault deface,
Their rout to leeward still sagacious form,
To shun the fury of the approaching storm.
III. Fair Candia now no more beneath her lee Protects the vessel from the insulting sea; Round her broad arms impatient of control,
Roused from the secret deep, the billows roll:
Sunk were the bulwarks of the friendly shore,
And all the scene an hostile aspect wore.
The flattering wind, that late with promis'd aid
From Candia's bay the unwilling ship betray'd,
No longer fawns beneath the fair disguise,
But like a ruffian on his quarry flies:
Tost on the tide she feels the tempest blow,
And dreads the vengeance of so fell a foe—
As the proud horse with costly trappings gay,
Exulting, prances to the bloody fray;
Spurning the ground he glories in his might,
But reels tumultuous in the shock of fight:
E'en so, caparison'd in gaudy pride,
The bounding vessel dances on the tide.
Fierce and more fierce the gathering tempest
South, and by west, the threatening demon blew ;
Auster's resistless force all air invades,
And every rolling wave more ample spreads:
The ship no longer can her top-sails bear;
No hopes of milder weather now appear.
Bow-lines and halyards are cast off again,
Clue-lines haul'd down, and sheets let fly amain:
Embrail'd each top-sail, and by braces squared,
The seamen climb aloft, and man each yard;
|